


A Wish Your Heart Makes

by Fanforthefics (StormDancer)



Series: Hockey Tumblr Oneshots [18]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Cinderella Elements, Fractured Fairy Tale, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 12:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15218951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormDancer/pseuds/Fanforthefics
Summary: “I’ve decided who I want to marry,” Gabe announces at breakfast the next morning.“Very good,” says his father.“About time,” says his mother.“Who is it?” asks his sister.“Well.” Gabe runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not entirely sure.”





	A Wish Your Heart Makes

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: things you forgot to say. 
> 
> Unbetaed and basically unedited. Don't know anything about anyone, these aren't real people, don't own rights to anything, etc etc. Enjoy!

Gabe is bored. 

It’s maybe not the thing to say, at a ball in honor of your birthday. He knows a lot of people put a lot of effort into making it nice. And it is nice. It’s all very pretty. But it’s also–well. A lot of people have been telling him how handsome he is and how good a king he’ll be and all the other sort of praise that everyone says because they want him to marry one of their children or siblings or them but no one means. Gabe knows he’s handsome and will be a good king. He doesn’t think it’s too much to ask to marry someone who isn’t boring. 

He slips his mask back on, for all the good it does him, and wanders over to the food table. The castle chefs have really outdone themselves this time, and Gabe surveys the spread. There must be something he can eat that won’t end up with food on his shirt. 

“Those cakes are really good,” comes a voice next to him. Gabe looks up. There’s a man standing there–short and stocky with tightly curled brown hair and an easy smile under a simple black mask. He’s munching on one of said cakes, not caring about the powdered sugar getting on his cheeks, and a eclair is in his other hand. “In case you were looking for a recommendation.” 

“Thank you,” Gabe says, because he has to be polite. “Um. You have something–”

“Yeah, well.” He rubs at it with the back of his hand. It doesn’t do anything. “It’s a good cake. I’m not giving up the cake so that I’m neat or whatever.” 

Gabe knows, immediately, that this man is not someone he’s met before. Not one of the nobles who frequent the palace. None of them would ever be so intent on a cake that is, he decides after taking a bite, good, but not the best. 

“I’ve had better,” he says, before he can think better of it. 

But the guy just makes a face. “Yeah, but you’re the prince, so obviously you would have. I’m not the prince, so I–” he waves the hand with the cake in it. “am enjoying my cake.” 

“How do you know I’m the prince?” Gabe demands. People have generally at least been pretending not to recognize him. “This is a masquerade. I could be anyone.” 

The guy’s eyeroll is clear behind his mask. “If you’d wanted to pretend you weren’t the prince, you could get a bigger mask to hide the fact that you’re the best looking man here. Or like, maybe a hood, because of the hair? I don’t know.” He’s turning red, but this–it’s not like the sly compliments from everyone else. This guy’s saying it like he can’t help it. “Anyway, point being, you’re the prince, and the mask isn’t doing much to hide it. Which you know.” 

“You mean my disguise wasn’t working?” 

The guy scoffs. He doesn’t seem to care that you’re not really supposed to scoff at the prince if you aren’t his family. “That mask is not large enough for your head and you know it. That’s what everyone says, you know. You can tell the prince because his head is the largest in the room.” 

Gabe laughs before he can stop himself. People are looking. He doesn’t care. The guy grins back, and it’s–a lot. If Gabe had spent more time paying attention in his poetry classes than trying to find a way to get outside to play, he might have made some metaphors with sunrises and starbursts. 

“I’m pretty sure that sort of insult is treason,” he retorts.

“Can it be an insult if it’s true, though? And like, big head isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Maybe it’s a compliment. Easier for the crown to sit on, or something.” 

“The crown’s not supposed to sit easily,” Gabe replies, and the guy–he snorts. 

“Wow, that was a line. Do they train you to say that shit in prince school?” 

“I mean it!” He knows what he has to do. What he’s been born to do. What he will do. 

The guy shrugs. “Yeah, I’m sure you do, you’ve been doing great things, your initiative in the schools has been amazing, but–that was such a line.” 

Gabe grins. “It really was.” 

“See!” He shakes his hand with the cake in it. “I knew it. I told Nate, no, the prince can’t always be serious, he’s got to gorgeous a smile for it, even he’s got to have fun sometimes.” The guy’s cheeks are red, but Gabe’s smiling harder than he has all night. “And apparently for him fun is laughing at his subjects, wow. Rude.” 

“A prince’s laughter is never rude,” Gabe informs him haughtily. The guy chuckles, and then takes a bite of the eclair. It’s–Gabe can’t tell if he’s trying to be suggestive or not, but it’s working. “Um.” 

“That was good too! Do you eat like this all the time up here?” he asks. 

“This isn’t the half of it,” Gabe tells him, and the guy’s eyes go wide. “You should be here for the Midwinter feast. It’s–” he starts to describe it, and the guy’s eyes are getting bigger and bigger, and maybe Gabe starts to embellish a little, around the dancing bears, but he wants to see how ridiculous he gets before the guy calls him on it. 

How far he can get, apparently, is pantomime performances of his life. “No, I’m sorry, I would have heard about that,” the guy objects, then makes a face when he can see how close Gabe is to laughing. “Hey! Making fun of your subjects is still rude, your highness.” 

“I’m educating my subject,” Gabe retorts. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see his mom giving him one of her  _looks_ –he’s been in the same place too long. Or she’s worried he’ll get something on his shirt. Sometimes her looks are difficult to decipher. But either way, he should move on. 

“Do you want to dance?” he asks. Before he really thinks of it, honestly. 

But the guy laughs. “Yeah, you don’t want me out on the dance floor, that would be embarrassing for everyone involved.” 

“Isn’t dancing why people are supposed to come to balls?” Gabe asks. He’s not disappointed or anything. He hadn’t been looking forward, in the split second after he asked, to being pressed against him. 

“I don’t know, I’m here for the food.” He shrugs. “And don’t most people come to seduce you into marrying them?” 

“So you aren’t here to seduce me?” Gabe asks–maybe there’s a bit of a purr. He’s definitely blushing. Gabe wants to feel it with his teeth. 

“Um, no. Well. There was this whole thing, and my best friend, he’s a little bit magic, or I guess he is? I don’t know, we’re still figuring it out. But he wanted to come because he’s a noble, or he sort of is, it’s complicated, his stepmom is definitely doing something weird to his inheritance but we’re not sure what yet, so he wanted to see what he was missing, and I’m here for moral support.” 

“And where’s your friend now?” Gabe asks. “Is he the table? Because you’re morally supporting the desserts very well.” 

“Screw you, he’s dancing and having a great time,” he replies, then bites his lip. “Um. Can I say that to a prince? Am I going to get beheaded?”

“I won’t,” Gabe says, trying to look serious.  “But if the guards hear you, they might.”

“Well. My mom always said I’d go out like that. Death by telling the prince I–I mean, by insulting the prince.” 

Gabe bites at his lip. His mom’s still giving him that look, and she’s going to come over soon enough, or send Bea over, and this man won’t dance, but– “We should probably go out to the gardens, so they can’t hear.” 

“But–the desserts!” He looks wistfully at the table. Gabe huffs out a breath. He’s never been thwarted by desserts before. 

“There are desserts outside,” he lies, and the guy perks up. His eyebrows are amazingly expressive. 

“You don’t have to babysit me,” he says, as Gabe gets them out into the gardens. It’s just warm enough to be outside in their jackets, and it’s quieter out here, just the faintest bits of music drifting down through the hedges. “I know you’ve got responsibilities or whatever. Just because I’m out of place doesn’t mean you have to take care of me.” 

“I’d rather be out here,” Gabe tells him. Maybe more honest than he should. But the moonlight is in his hair and he’s smiling at Gabe like he’s a real person and Gabe’s been laughing more in their conversation than he ever has before. “It’s–it’s always the same in there, and I’ve met all of them before and they all want things from me and I’m trying but there’s only so much I can do, and I just–”

“Okay.” There’s a hand on his arm, warm and steady. “Okay then. We’ll be out here.” And a smile, like the moonlight too, and something in his eyes that’s shrewder than Gabe had expected. “Even if you lied to me about the desserts.” 

“It was stretching the truth. there could have been desserts out here.” 

“But are there?” 

“No. Unless you brought some.” 

“Maybe I’ll see if Nate can get me some,” he hums, considering, and doesn’t protest as Gabe leads him farther into the gardens with a hand at the small of his back. He chatters on, about the palace and the gardens and his friends and a lot about this Nate fellow, who sounds pretty cool but also who he likes enough that Gabe is considering some discrete exiling, just in case. It’s more fun than Gabe’s ever had at a ball before. There’s something easy about him, something calming, despite his chatter, or maybe because of it. 

The moon is high in the sky when they slow in one of the open space is the garden. He’s talking about his friend who loves horses, and Gabe is paying attention, sort of, but also he’s grinning and his hands are waving in the air and–

“Dance with me,” Gabe interrupts. He stops. 

“I told you. That’s a bad idea.” 

“There’s no one else here,” Gabe says, and takes a step forward. He stays still, his head tilted upwards, his eyes glinting. He doesn’t look like he’s running away. “Dance with me,” he repeats.

“Is that an order?” he asks, but his hands are sliding into Gabe’s, and they’re so close. 

“Yes,” Gabe tells him. The music’s just barely audible, but it’s enough. “It’s treason to disobey a prince’s order, you know.” 

“Really?” his voice is low, and Gabe can feel it in his chest, and in his bones. “And what would the punishment be?” 

“I’m sure I can think of something,” Gabe purrs, and he’s bright red but he’s keeping step with Gabe, and his eyes are hot and alight as he looks at him. 

Gabe doesn’t know who moves first, but he’s dipping his head and their lips are meeting and his hand’s tangled in Gabe’s hair and Gabe’s hands are on his neck, his face, and god it’s like drowning and taking his first breath all at once. Gabe bites at his lips, and that gets a moan, and he presses closer, until–

The clock tolls. Gabe doesn’t pay it any mind, but the man makes a noise and pulls away. “Shit, I’ve got to go.” 

Gabe makes a noise that might be a growl, and tugs him closer.“It’s only midnight, it’s still early.” 

“No, Nate’ll kill me, we’ve got to get back.” He slowly lets go of his grip of Gabe’s hair, then pets at it until it lies a little straighter. Gabe doesn’t let go of his hips. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to–this was amazing, thank you. For everything.” 

He’s not smiling anymore; his face is screwed up like he’s in pain, and Gabe wants that to stop, even as he pulls out of Gabe’s grasp. 

“Wait, no–”

“This was something out of a dream,” he tells Gabe, and manages a smile that looks like there might be tears. “But I’ve got to get back to reality.” 

“No, just–tell me–”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and then he’s turning back the way they came. It takes Gabe a second, but then he’s racing after him, and his legs are longer so he should catch up to him but somehow–the man gets inside, and then Gabe does and then–

“Where were you?” his sister asks, grabbing his arm, and Gabe shakes her off. 

“Not now, I’ve got to–wait!” he calls, but it doesn’t work. By the time Gabe gets outside, there’s no sign the man he’d danced with had ever existed. 

///

“I’ve decided who I want to marry,” Gabe announces at breakfast the next morning.

“Very good,” says his father. 

“About time,” says his mother. 

“Who is it?” asks his sister. 

“Well.” Gabe runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not entirely sure.” 

That gets a laugh out of Bea, and his parents to look up from the papers they were pouring over. 

“You aren’t sure?” his father repeats. 

“Well. He never actually mentioned his name,” Gabe has to admit. 

“Is this the man you were talking to all night?” Bea asks. “He was cute. Did you actually never ask his name?”

“We were busy!”

“That’s just poor form,” his father informs him, clearly laughing at him now. “I taught you better than that. Always ask someone’s name before you–”

“I’m going to marry him,” Gabe insists. It would probably have more force if he hadn’t also taken a bite of toast at the same time, but alas. “And I wasn’t–we were just talking!”

“Are you sure you want to marry him?” his mother asks, gentler. “You’ve only known him for a few hours.” 

Gabe shakes his head. They don’t understand. “He was–he made me laugh,” he tells them, trying to put it together. “And he made me feel like a person, and that I could be the best prince. And his smile was like the sun coming up, or something.” 

There’s a beat of silence, then, “Aww,” Bea coos. “Gabe’s smitten!” 

“How do you plan to find him, if you don’t know his name?” His father asks. Apparently they’re tabling the ‘are you sure you want to marry him’ discussion. Gabe’s okay with that. 

Gabe also has a plan. “Well, he mentioned a friend who was sort of nobility,” he says, and turns to his mother. “Do you know anyone named Nate whose stepmother might be stealing his inheritance from him, and who is also nobility?” 

Her eyebrows go up. “Not offhand. If I knew someone whose inheritance was being stolen, I would stop it.” She takes a sip of tea. “You might go check the archives, though.” 

“Thanks, I will,” Gabe announces, and pushes back from the table. 

“Be careful,” his father warns, actually putting down his pen. He fixes Gabe with a kingly stare. “This isn’t a decision to be made lightly.” 

“I’m not,” Gabe tells him. Then he goes off to find the archives. 

///

It takes Gabe three days and he’s probably inhaled an entire mountain of dust, but at last he unearths the name of Nate MacKinnon. Then he has to find Nate, and that takes a little while too, because apparently the whole evil stepmother thing wasn’t an exaggeration. 

“Really?” Gabe asks, looking around the manor as the stepmom and her daughters are being herded out by guardsmen and Nate, a big blonde man with an open face who’s attractive enough that the exile is sounding pretty good, watches them go. “This has been happening for how long, and we haven’t heard about it?” 

“Well, I don’t think many people knew,” Nate says, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn’t that bad. I like working in the stables.” 

“No, it’s definitely that bad. And people must have known.” Gabe shakes his head. “We need some better reporting. Why didn’t you come to us?” 

“Because I thought it was beneath your notice?” Nate says, shrugging. Gabe scowls. That’s not okay. He needs to fix that. “And, um. Actually, your highness–not that I’m complaining, but–why did you notice?” 

Gabe swallows, and straightens, trying to remember all the lessons he’s ever had on being impressive. “Do you have a friend who went to the ball with you? About this tall–” he gestures– “Big smile, no sense of propriety about insulting princes?” 

Nate’s jaw drops. “Wait,  _you’re_ the reason Tyson’s been sulking?” he asks. Tyson. Gabe mouths it to himself.  _Tyson_. It’s a good name. “The prince?” Then he takes a breath, and okay, he’s as big as Gabe, apparently. “I’m thankful for what you’ve done here, but if you did anything–untoward, with Tyson–”

“I didn’t,” Gabe objects. Not for lack of willingness. “But also, I need to find him, because I’m going to marry him. Do you know where he is?” 

Nate’s jaw opens and closes a few times. “What?” 

“I’m going to marry him,” Gabe repeats. He doesn’t understand why everyone’s so skeptical about this. “Where can I find him?” 

Nate blinks. “Um. Well. I think he’ll want to deal with this himself, so–he’s probably working right now.” He stops. Gabe waits, probably not looking very patient. “Oh! Right. He works in the market, he’s the shopboy.” 

So Gabe goes to the market, where apparently Tyson is. Luckily, no one’s exactly looking for the prince in the village, and he used up all the guardsmen arresting Nate’s stepfamily, so he’s alone when he gets to the market. 

Gabe’s never actually been in the shop before, but it’s not very large, so it doesn’t take him long to ascertain that Tyson is not, in fact, among the shelves of produce and flour and other imports. 

“Hi,” he says to the girl behind the counter, smiling his most charming courtier’s smile. Her eyes go a little wide when she sees him. Maybe people are looking for him, huh. “Do you happen to know where I can find Tyson?” 

“Um–” she starts, but as she does the door behind her bangs open. 

“I’m not sulking!” Tyson’s yelling to someone in the back room, as he stumbles out. He’s carrying a large crate of something; the sleeveless look is really working. “I’m just–” Then he turns, and he freezes like a deer in headlights. “Oh, shit.” 

“Tyson!” The girl squeaks. “You can’t–” 

“What are you doing here?” Tyson demands. 

Gabe looks around. The girl is staring at him, and Tyson’s red and holding a crate of what look like radishes. “Can we go somewhere alone?” 

Tyson gives him another look. “Yeah?” he says, and heaves the crate onto the counter. “Mary, can you–” 

“We’ve got this, go.” 

Tyson grins at her. Gabe finds himself evaluating how pretty she is, and what that smile might mean, and firmly reins himself in. He’s the prince. He can have more dignity than that.  

“Come on, then,” Tyson says, less swept off his feet than Gabe would have hoped, and leads him through the back room, which is filled with crates similar to the ones Tyson was just carrying and a few boys who blink at them in surprise, and out into the street behind the store. Gabe expects them to stop there, but Tyson keeps going about a block, before he pushes open a gate. 

It’s a little garden–nothing like the palace garden, with their sculpted hedges; this is a little overgrown and it’s mainly wildflowers and no one has ever arranged anything in it, other than a little fountain at the side, which has water burbling out of a fish with an open mouth. It’s charming. 

“I know it’s not the palace, but no one else really comes here,” Tyson says, and folds his arms across his chest. Defensive body language. “What are you doing? How did you even find me? Did you come to actually behead me? I didn’t mean it. Or is like, kissing a prince treason? Because you definitely made a move first, that dancing thing, that was a move. I–”

“Tyson,” Gabe snaps, because he’s like to get a word in edgewise. 

“Or are you here to finish what we started?” Tyson just keeps going, and he’s getting redder. “Because you’re gorgeous and all, but I think I have more self-respect than that. And aren’t you supposed to be getting married? That’s a shitty thing to–”

“I’m going to marry you!” Gabe shouts, because apparently that’s the only way he’ll be able to say anything. 

It gets Tyson to shut up. For a second, he just stares at Gabe. 

Then, “No, really, why are you here?” he asks, almost laughing. 

“I told you.” Gabe should maybe be more romantic about this–he would have been, if he’d planned better, but this is what he’s doing, apparently. He can sweep him off his feet later. “I want to marry you.” 

Tyson’s inhale is sharp, but then he rolls his eyes. “Uh-huh. Right. Very convincing. Is this about Nate? Is he in trouble? It was my idea, he shouldn’t–” 

“Nate’s fine, I arrested his stepmother–”

“What?” Tyson’s mouth looks a little like the fish fountain. 

“And I told you why I’m here. Why don’t you believe me?” Gabe crosses his own arms, and glares back at Tyson. This is getting out of hand. 

"Because–”

“Because?” Gabe prompts. 

“Because this doesn’t happen to people like me!” Tyson bursts out, throwing his hands up. “That night–it was like a dream, okay? The handsome prince, sweeps you off your feet into the gardens for a dance, kisses you in the moonlight–that’s not a thing that happens in real life!” Tyson goes quieter, looks down at his feet. He’s curving inwards, and Gabe doesn’t like it in a visceral sort of way he doesn’t feel often. “I’m a shopboy. That one night was more than I could dream about.” 

Gabe starts forward before he thinks. “You didn’t seem very swept,” he says, and reaches out, careful, for Tyson’s arm. 

Tyson twitches when he touches him. “I was plenty swept, trust me,” he retorts. “But you don’t–owe me anything, or anything. It was just a kiss.” 

“I don’t owe you anything,” Gabe agrees, and slides his hands up Tyson’s forearms. Tyson’s jaw is set stubbornly, but he’s leaning in, too. “But I could. If you wanted me to.” 

“Because you’d marry me.” 

“Yes.” 

Tyson looks up at that. “You actually mean that?” 

“I do,” Gabe agrees, smiling his most charming smile. He’s been told it’ll get the most crotchety noble to agree with him. 

From Tyson, it gets a flush and a snort. “Are you actually insane?” 

Gabe huffs out a breath, dropping his charming smile. “No.” 

“We talked to each other once! We kissed once! You don’t even know anything about me, and you want to marry me?” Tyson’s laughing. “Wow, nobles are insane, that’s–” 

“I don’t know anything about you because you didn’t say anything,” Gabe tells him, and tightens his grip on Tyson’s arms, just in case. “I know that you’re cute and make me laugh and you care about your friends and you make me–” he doesn’t quite have words for it. Not even here, bickering in this pretty little garden. “You make me feel like a person,” he finishes, but that doesn’t sum it up. How easy Tyson makes him feel. 

“And none of those are good reasons to get married. I’m sorry, your highness–”

“Gabriel,” Gabe interrupts. “Gabe.” 

“What?” 

“That’s my name.” 

“Yes, I know my prince’s name, thanks, I went to school.” Tyson shifts. 

“Then you can use it.” 

Tyson makes an exasperated noise. “Fine.  _Gabe_ , this is–what do you want me to say? This morning I thought I would be telling my grandkids about my one night with a prince and none of them would believe me.” 

“Say you’ll marry me,” Gabe tells him, and then his hands is on Tyson’s waist, tugging him in. “Say you’ll marry me, and then you can come to the palace and they’ll make you all the cakes you want.” 

Tyson snorts, but Gabe’s not holding him so tightly that he couldn’t pull away if he wanted to, and he hasn’t. “I’m not marry you for desserts, Gabriel. Honestly.” 

“We can have ice cream at every meal,” Gabe goes on, because he doesn’t know much about Tyson, but he’s gotten that this is a thing. It’s something he knows Tyson likes, at least. “And–your family can come to the palace too, and as soon as I get back to the palace I’ll make sure Nate’s station is fixed so he can be there as much as he wants, and–” 

“Did you really do that?” Tyson cuts in. “Arrest Nate’s stepmom?” 

“Of course.” It’s not exactly the romantic banter Gabe had been going for, but that’s still nagging at him anyway. “I’d have done it years ago if I knew about it. And I’m going to find out a way to make sure I know about that sort of thing, it’s unacceptable–” 

“Ugh, shut up,” Tyson tells him, and Gabe is too busy being kissed to figure out why. It’s not the all encompassing magic of the ball, but in some ways that’s better–now Gabe can feel Tyson against him, solid and pushing and sweet, and he can catalog the way he moves when Gabe’s hands get into his hair and when he steps in to get even closer. 

Then he’s pulling away again, and Gabe maybe makes a vey dignified noise in protest. “I’m not going to marry you,” he says, and his hands are still locked behind Gabe’s neck. 

“Um.” 

“It’s a stupid idea to marry someone you don’t know, maybe you’ll hate me in a week. Maybe I’ll hate you in a week. You look high maintenance. I bet you snore.” 

Tyson’s grinning, and so is Gabe despite himself. “I do not snore!” 

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” Tyson retorts. “And–I mean, I’d be an awful prince. Prince consort? I don’t even know what the title is.” 

“Lord,” Gabe informs him. He looked it up. Tyson rolls his eyes. 

“Fine, lord. I’d be awful at it.” He pauses, like he thinks Gabe’s going to disagree, but he’s right, honestly. He’ll be nothing like the other nobles, and Gabe thinks that’s amazing. “But–I guess if Nate goes up to the palace, like it seems like he will be, I could come with him sometimes.” 

Gabe’s heart thumps, painfully fond already. "When you have time.” 

“Well, some of us have to work for a living. We can’t all live in a palace. Or not yet, at least,” Tyson adds, and Gabe grins. “I didn’t mean–” 

“You’re going to marry me someday,” Gabe informs him, and kisses the laughing protest off of Tyson’s lips. Somewhere far away, the clock strikes noon. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Want to talk about it? Comment or come chat on [ tumblr!](http://fanforthefics.tumblr.com/)


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